Loretta Chase

Touch me. Hold me. Kiss me.

He turned the corner, into the dark, narrow street, where the blank, windowless walls could see and tell nothing. He pressed his forehead against the cold stone and endured, because he hadn’t any choice. He couldn’t stop what twisted and ached inside him.

I need you.

Her lips clinging to his…her hands, holding him fast. She was soft and warm and she tasted of rain, and it was sweet, unbearably sweet, to believe for a moment that she wanted to be in his arms.

He’d believed it for that moment, and wanted to believe still, and he hated himself for what he wanted, and hated her for making him want it.

It served him right, he thought as the carriage made its way down the street. This was

warm, and the breeze blew sweet with ... patchouli?
His mind